Chapter 11
Thought of the day…
If it costs you your peace, it’s too bloody expensive.
(Buy yourself some nice shoes instead.)
Trudy was unusually quiet after I told her about Tommy, her eyes darting between us as if she couldn’t quite believe it, bewilderment practically stamped on her face. I regretted saying anything; there was every chance Tommy would cotton on, and I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about her knowing.
This is a farce, I thought. The whole bloody thing – Julian, Tommy… having to pretend…
I suppose I could have embraced it, sat everyone down in front of a whiteboard and mapped it all out, like on Only Murders in the Building.
Only Husbands on the Island.
By this stage, it wouldn’t have surprised me if Rick rocked up (pun intended).
Lost in thought, I barely ate anything else, although I did finish my wine. It was delicious, but mostly I was chasing some Dutch courage. I was going to need it.
After giving us enough time to taste the wares and soak up the atmosphere, Michalis directed us to the museum’s shop where I stocked up on gifts for Mum and Dad, Claude, and Maya and Ruby. Olive oil for everyone!
‘Would you like to see inside the church?’ he asked us when we’d finished shopping. ‘We have some time.’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful,’ Trudy replied, and Niki seemed keen as well.
‘But, Ally,’ Michalis continued, ‘you will need, uh…’ He mimed draping something around his shoulders. ‘To show respect.’
‘Oh, of course,’ I said, suddenly remembering. I’d have to cover my shoulders to enter the church, but I didn’t have anything with me. The others were dressed appropriately, and I didn’t want to be the reason they missed out, so I told them to go on ahead.
‘Are you sure, hun?’ asked Trudy.
‘Yes, yes, go ahead,’ I said with a smile, waving them off.
Tommy shot a quick look over his shoulder as he followed the others into the church, but I pretended not to notice. Instead, I walked away from the entrance, following the rough whitewashed wall. While I drank in the view, I took deep gulps of the fresh, earthy air.
Part of me wished Tommy would come and find me, press me against that wall, and kiss me.
Is that what I wanted?
Yes.
No.
Yes.
‘Ally.’
I rounded on him, startled. Had I summoned him by sheer will?
‘It’s time to go,’ he said, hooking his thumb in the direction of the minivan.
‘Oh, right. Thanks,’ I added as an afterthought.
I trailed behind him, not wanting to get too close, then climbed in the passenger seat.
Trudy seemed to have shaken off her bewildered state and was chatting animatedly to Niki about her Greek heritage.
I eavesdropped as Michalis drove us down the hill back to Chora, noticing the affectionate way Niki talked about her family even though they apparently drove her bonkers most of the time.
Minh was quiet as always, only asking Niki the occasional question, and Tommy was completely silent. Like me. What’s going through his head? I asked myself.
God, I just wanted to be back on Aetheria, hidden in my villa, and running down the clock. Less than two days to go.
And I still hadn’t told Tommy not to show up later.
* * *
Just like everyone, I’ve had moments where I wished I was anywhere else. And when we left Eggares, it felt like the day would keep heading in that direction.
But then we arrived at the restaurant owned by Michalis’ family, tucked in the heart of Chora, halfway up the hill from the waterfront. That’s when I met their yiayiá, the woman in the photograph – the one holding hands with her husband in the olive grove.
And she was beautiful.
She would have been at least ninety, but that was doing maths rather than judging by her appearance.
She may have had grandsons in their forties, but she looked far younger than her years, standing erect with the grace of a ballerina.
Her large, round dark-brown eyes were wise and kind and filled with laughter, and her salt-and-pepper hair was worn in a thick, high bun.
I’m only five-foot-one, but I towered over her – she was tiny.
She welcomed us into her kitchen with the fuss of a mother hen, her warm smile framed by laugh lines etched like laurels, making her even more beautiful.
I was in awe.
There’s something you should understand about the way Claude and I were raised. Our mum, Jenny, is the sort of mum who will do anything for anyone. She might complain about it and be a little judgey (but aren’t we all sometimes?), but she is generous to a fault.
Except to herself.
Mum has never booked in for a spa day or shopped anywhere more expensive than Marks & Spencers.
She doesn’t wear clothes that are anything more than perfunctory.
Why would I bother with all that fancy stuff?
Who’s going to see me? She and Dad never have date nights or take proper holidays, no matter how much I nag them.
And she hates it when I buy her nice things.
What a waste, Ally. My thousand-year-old [insert item here] works perfectly fine.
I don’t need you spending your money on me.
But most of all (least of all?), Mum has never been one to follow her dreams. Or even have dreams. Or even consider that she’s entitled to them!
I’m convinced she thinks of herself solely as a wife, a mother, a friend, and a neighbour – forgetting entirely that she’s also Jenny.
I only paint this picture of my mum – a woman I love deeply but will never truly understand – because the day I met Maria Kouros (or Yiayiá as she insisted we call her), I met the woman I wanted to be.
Proud. Accomplished. Generous. And beautiful – inside and out.
She was a force.
And so, so funny.
She had very little English (which was still more than my Greek), so Michalis translated for us. Even when he appeared shocked, shaking his head at her and saying, ‘Ochi, Yiayiá,’ she would scold him, prodding him to translate exactly what she’d said.
Including when she looked Tommy up and down appraisingly and said, ‘You remind me of my husband, Giorgios. He was… virile.’ She raised her fisted hand to drive home her point, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Even Tommy laughed, his cheeks colouring.
That’s when our eyes met, a look that reverberated through me. I hastily looked away and caught my breath.
‘Oh my,’ said Trudy next to me.
‘She’s funny, isn’t she?’ I asked, sharing the joke.
‘I meant you and Tom,’ she replied, sobering me instantly. ‘You sure there’s nothing between you any more?’
Am I sure? Why no, Trudy, there is nothing in this world of which I am less sure!
‘Oh, we divorced years ago. I’ve had two husbands and two divorces since then,’ I said lightly. Only why did I say that? She blinked rapidly, clearly shocked. But at least it wasn’t pity – that would have been far worse.
‘Now, you will pair up,’ said Michalis, reminding me we were there to cook rather than conduct a post-mortem on my first marriage.
I looked to Trudy, hoping to pair up with her, but she’d already chosen Niki. And with Minh taking photos…
Wonderful – reunited. Again.
‘I hope this is all right?’ Tommy asked as he rounded the bench and stood by my side.
I beamed at him. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
Across the way, Minh took a photo.
‘Ahh, mate, sorry,’ said Tommy. ‘Just… employees of Aetheria probably shouldn’t be in the promotional photos.’
‘Yeah, of course. Sorry ’bout that.’ Minh looked intently at his view finder, then lifted his eyes, glancing between me and Tommy, and Trudy and Niki. I expected him to ask me and Trudy to cook together but instead he said, ‘I’ll make sure you’re not in focus.’
‘Perfect,’ replied Tommy.
Don’t you love it when the menfolk decide for you?
Only that’s not fair – I could have spoken up, asked to swap with Niki. But after deliberately dodging him all morning, there was no point denying it any more – I wanted to be with Tommy. And cooking together would be fun.
I mean, neither of us were exactly ‘home chefs’, but we’d always enjoyed being in the kitchen together.
Even making beans on toast, which we’d had a fair bit when we were first married and skint.
We’d grate cheese over the top and slide it under the grill, then add brown sauce, laughing about being ‘super posh’ when we were anything but.
The memory made me smile, but I shook it off and took in the restaurant’s well-appointed kitchen. Like on MasterChef, the ingredients and implements were laid out across three workstations, including one for Yiayiá.
With Michalis translating, she started demonstrating, and we watched intently, doing our best to replicate her precise actions.
First we hollowed out fat, juicy tomatoes and just from the aroma, I could tell they were sun-ripened. I snuck a little taste, and it was even better than the tomatoes I’d had on Aetheria.
I handed Tommy a sliver, then peeked at Yiayiá – I didn’t want to get told off. She caught my eye, but instead of scolding me, she gave me a sly smile.
‘Oh my god,’ sighed Tommy. ‘Is there anything more delicious than Greek tomatoes?’
‘Nothing,’ I agreed, soaking up the warmth of his smile.
Next up were red peppers and Tommy and I worked in unison to scoop out the seeds and pith, then set the peppers on the tray next to the tomatoes. Then Yiayiá held up a long, narrow aubergine, and explained the next step.
‘The aubergine is a little harder,’ Michalis translated. ‘Hold it firmly – use strong hands.’
I clamped my lips shut. Do not laugh. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.
Sure, it was juvenile to find that funny but come on! And from that glint in Yiayiá’s eye and the quirk of her mouth, she knew exactly what she was saying.